


Friends are always there for you

by fictionisthebetterreality



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: College!AU, Defenders - Freeform, im so sorry, jean and annie brotp, kicking ass, marco getting picked on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionisthebetterreality/pseuds/fictionisthebetterreality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is getting picked on, until Jean and Annie arrive and kick ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends are always there for you

Based on this >>>> https://fictionisthebetterreality.tumblr.com/post/142418217229/jeananniemarco

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey there cutie!”

 Inwardly cringing, Marco looks up from his revision notes to see two faces uncomfortably close to his own. Both are strangers, he’s never seen them before in his life, but he can see from the hoodie one of them is wearing that they go to the same university as himself.

“Um, hello” he says gently, giving half a smile, not wanting to encourage them, but not wanting to come across as _rude_. His quiet response however, has to opposite effect, and they go so far as to take the two spare seats at his table, making him bristle slightly, thinking _those aren’t for you_.

Smiling with teeth, the one sitting next to him leans in a bit, pushing even more into his personal bubble, and looks at his notes.

“Oh, no way, you do English lit? Us too!” Marco, having leaned back slightly to get away from the over powering cologne he can smell coming from the guy, simply smiles again, eyes darting away from him, only to land on the face of the other sitting opposite, who has leaned back, seemingly content to let his partner do the talking. After a minute, Marco feels something brush against his ankle, before lifting higher and stroking the back of his calf.

He knows he’s blushing as he pulls his leg back, and usually that would be the point that he says “Nice to meet you” and gets up and leaves, but he’s waiting for his friends, and his phone is at home, out of battery where he forgot to charge it again, and he’s never really been hit on this strongly before, in a situation where he can’t get out with niceties and a hasty retreat.

The one on his right is rambling, using awful pick-up lines and really too close for comfort, while his friend simply leers, and his legs must be miles long because Marco’s are pulled back as far as he can get them, and the other guys are still there, resting against his ankles. 

He’s about to excuse himself, to get a coffee, to go to the toilet, he doesn’t know; he just wants to get out from under their gazes, but his plans are stopped in their tracks when the one sitting next to him scoots his chair over and leans back, putting his arm up and on the back of Marco’s chair like he has all the right in the world.

Now Marco really is trapped, with the wall on one side and this overly friendly stranger on the other, with the one opposite still leering and invading what’s left of his personal space with his long ass legs. And his heart is starting to race; it’s ridiculous, he thinks, it’s not like they can actually do anything, in this crowded coffee shop filled with stressed out students studying for finals. But the stressed out students have more things to worry about than some random guy they don’t know getting hit on, and the crowd makes it difficult for anyone to actually see more than a glimpse of what’s going on, and that glimpse would just show three guys at a table, nothing incriminating there.

So now his heart’s pounding, and the guys are still there, and he can’t think of any way to get out without outright pushing this guy back, and he really doesn’t want to because he’s never been one for violence and really, he thinks, this guy seems the type to take Marco’s hands on him as encouragement, intentions or not.

He’s not sure if it’s desperation or the thought that his friends will be here soon that prompts him to speak up, but he does it anyway.

“Excuse me,” he interrupts, his heart reaching a new rhythm, pounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure everyone nearby can hear it, fisting his hands in his lap so they can’t see the tremors.

“You’re sitting in my friend’s seats. I’m waiting for them to get out of class, so-“

Before he can finish his sentence, he’s interrupted, and the wind gets blown out of his sails, as this interloper with a crooked grin and sharp narrow eyes talks over him, not moving an inch.

“Well we’ll just have to keep you company until they come over, right?” his tone sugar sweet, glancing at his friend who has malicious laughter in his eyes, and it’s nearly too much for Marco. He can feel his throat closing up, the tightness near painful as he fights back tears, looking at his work to avoid them seeing the effect they’re having. He grits his teeth, thinking _it’s fine, its’s fine they can’t stay here forever they’ll leave soon_ not really believing in his own words but repeating them like a mantra, over and over, anything to distract him from the situation he’s in.

And then four words are spoken and it’s like he can breathe again, can feel his body relaxing and a genuine smile overtaking his face as he looks back up with relief bordering on giddiness.

 “That won’t be necessary”

A shadow has fallen over Marco’s tormentor (because that’s what they are now, he can’t put it off as over-friendly, not when he feels like this and they look like that) and as he twists and scowls, looking up into the face of Marco’s defender.

Jean positively exudes violence, looming over the chair that seats this guy, that should have seated _him_. As Marco breathes in a gasp of relief, the guy stands, an automatic reaction to someone who looks so angry being so close, and Marco tenses slightly again, worrying even though he knows Jean can handle it.

“Oh? Who are you? His boyfriend?” The jerk leers, and Marco can’t see Jean’s face, there’s a body in the way, but he knows all too well the expression, and feels a spike of vicious delight at the way the other boy tenses, his shoulders tightening. The one opposite is sitting forwards now he sees, nowhere near as relaxed as before, and the delight swirls and is mixed in with the happiness that comes from his friends coming to his defence.

Before someone can throw a punch, another voice chips in, dry and unemotional, as if she were stating the weather.

“You should leave now,” Annie says, and Marco can see her, or half of her, at Jean’s side, looking at the second guy who is still sitting, and if Jean is screaming violence, then all you can get from Annie is boredom. This seems to be a bigger insult to them than Jean getting in the guy’s face, because now the other guy stands, sneering at her, focused on her 4”9’ height and nothing else. Marco doesn’t miss the narrowing of her eyes, and the relief is starting to turn into more worry because Jean is one thing, but Annie is a whole other.

“…before someone gets hurt” she finishes, her piercing blue eyes narrowing with the threat. Marco gulps, goes to stand, tries to speak, but there’s a tension in the air that he doesn’t dare break. It’s a stand-off, Jean chest to chest with the guy next to Marco, and Annie staring down the second, who looks less sure now Annie is cracking her knuckles with a menacing stare.

The second is the first to break, muttering something to his friend and brushing past Annie, not quite daring to deliberately bump into her, leaving his friend alone. For a minute, the silence remains, and Marco doesn’t know if it’s because this guy was just abandoned or if he’s thinking about starting something, but then he moves, barging past Jean. Marco thinks that’s it, and sinks halfway back into his chair, until a remark is tossed over the retreating guys shoulder, a generic insult that has no effect on Marco, he really couldn’t care less, it’s clearly just the guy trying to save face and he’d rather leave him to his humiliation that retaliate, but that’s just him.

Jean wheels, hand reaching towards the guys shirt, no doubt to spin him back and punch him in the face, but before he can Annie is there, tripping him with a steel toed boot, causing him to stumble, and then fall, with her knee on his back and his arm up behind him.

Everyone is staring now; they all heard his shout of surprise and the thud as he hid the floor, and all save those with the highest volume on their headphones are interested, curious as to what is happening. Marco rises again, then hovers, unsure. He doesn’t want to cause more trouble, but he can see some of the bar staff frowning, and he knows that someone is going to intervene in a minute.

“Apologize” Annie instructs, ignoring the guys spluttering and half formed curse words. When he does nothing but spit more expletives, she raises his hand higher, and Jean walks over, placing his shoe directly onto the guy’s knuckles. He’s only wearing converse, but it doesn’t matter when he presses down, there’s enough pressure from that and the small woman on his back to make him surrender.

“Okay, okay, I give! Sorry, man, I’m sorry, just get off me!” It’s not the most sincere apology in the world, but it satisfies Annie, who releases his arm and rises, stepping off him with the fluid motion born of hours of practice of doing this. Jean keeps his foot down, so the guy has to snatch his hand out from underneath, glaring up before hastily making an exit.

Everyone is still staring when Annie and Jean turn to him, but all he can do is look at them, speechless.

“You didn’t have to go that far,” he murmurs, even though there’s the hint of a smile threatening, not from their acts of violence, but because they did it for _him_. Jean simply scoffs, pulling the chair next to Marco out to it’s original place and settling in it, raking a hand through his hair and scowling, eyes glinting fiercely as he speaks.

“I should’ve punched his face in. Was going to, before Annie got him.” The girl herself nods, taking the chair opposite and spinning it so she straddles it, face back to it’s mask of boredom.

“People like that deserve what they get” she says firmly, eyes resting on Marco. He blushes, something in his chest tightening when he thinks about how truly offended they were by his encounter. He doesn’t have time to say anything though, before a waitress appears at their table. He thinks at first it’s to ask them to leave, gathering his notes up in preparation, but then three huge steaming mugs are thumped down, and he looks up to see a radiant smile on her face, with a nametag reading _Christa_.

“These are for you!” she says brightly, as they all stare up, Marco in confusion, Jean suspiciously, Annie with (of course) apparent disinterest. “On the house,” the small blonde continues, gesturing back towards the bar, where a couple of bar staff wave, a girl with black hair tied into two loose pigtails winking and blowing a kiss.

Realisation dawns as she continues to talk, and Marco feels a burst of fierce pride for his friends.

“Those two creeps have been in here more than once, and quite a few of us have been on the other end of _that_ ,” she describes Marco’s situation with a scathing tone and general arm wave, “So it was pretty great to see them get chased out like that. The way you took him down was amazing!” She beams at both Annie and Jean, who colours slightly and sips at one of the drinks. It’s disconcerting, seeing this small blonde talk so passionately about throwing someone to the floor, but then again, Marco is friends with Annie. She chatters on for a minute before leaving, her bright personality shining through, and even though Marco has just met her he feels like they could be firm friends, smiling back when she takes her leave.

“See Marco, she’s happy about us decking that guy!” Jean whines, settling more comfortably into his chair now that she’s left, cradling his mug, the pout and hot chocolate mixing bizarrely with the undercut and multiple piercings that make up his rough exterior. Marco frowns, opening his mouth to protest but Annie makes a rare interruption.

“We’re your friends, Marco. We won’t sit back and let you take it when you’re uncomfortable like that, especially with douchebags like that. You should know that by now.”

He blinks, taken aback by her serious tone and heartfelt words, as is Jean by the open mouthed stare he has going. He can’t think of a protest that wouldn’t make the moment feel cheap, so he settles for simply thanking them, looking into his drink and feeling his cheeks burn. They are silent for a minute, until Jean opens his mouth and breaks the atmosphere in his typical way.

“Gaaaaaaaay” he drones, deadpan. Marco glances up, and then bursts out laughing, all his relief and love coming out at once, along with Jean who laughs along, and even Annie smirks, punching Jean on the arm, who simply rubs the sore spot, far too used to Annie’s punches to take notice of the pain.

They laugh and laugh, to the point Marco has tears in his eyes, and he’s not even sure what they’re laughing at anymore. Christa brings them more drinks, they sit and talk until closing, and by the time they get home, all the insecurities Marco has have been washed away by the warm friendship of his two best friends.

 


End file.
